


Binary Star

by DarkCaustic



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Second Person, kind of, sorry I know everyone hates it but its fun to write in sometimes, wedding fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9410816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkCaustic/pseuds/DarkCaustic
Summary: One day, you’ll wake up and the bed will be empty and the news will be bloody and you won’t know how you got here.





	

One day, you’ll wake up and you won’t know how you got here. 

The news will be bloody - it always is. Television screens asking viewers to use their discretion - they’re hanging the dead out to dry. But you know better than to look away, even if they’re only giving you half of the story. You want to know what you can know.

One day, you’ll wake up and the bed will be empty and the news will be bloody and you won’t know how you got here. 

You’ll find the place still locked up and his phone will just ring and ring and ring, which is typical but the absence in the bed, less so. 

You worry. 

One day, you’ll wake up and be unable to find him, the bed will be empty and the news will be bloody and it’ll feel like all of Hell’s Kitchen has finally lived up to it’s name. 

‘Cause somewhere inside you’ll always be naive, twenty-two and starting law school and liking the way this feels - the way this friendship feels like coming home, like a beer on a Friday night, like a drive out to the country when the city starts to make you grind your teeth.

You won’t know how you got here. It’ll be that damn song by Talking Heads - _this is not my beautiful wife._

No. No it’s not. All those pretty girls who turned you down and all those pretty boys that you turned down because you kept circling, binary star, around this one blind jerk with a flair for the dramatic and a tendency to end up in fights. 

Not that you knew at the time, how could you. That was before the world turned inside out.

You’ll wake up one day and the news will be bloody and you won’t know how you got here. 

You’ll think the worse. Of course you will. This is _reality_  after all. 

You know that all time is burrowed time and Fate charges twice as much a minute when your lover is a hero, a vigilante with no magic powers, no special suits. Just a diehard desire to make this scrap of the world a better place.

_A better place._

Sometimes you’ll be bitter.

That’s only natural. 

That he could put everyone and everything before you. 

But then sometimes you’re angry - 

That he could put everyone and everything before _himself_.

And sometimes you’ll just be sad.

That one soul could ache so much on behalf of the suffering of another. 

And there will be days like this, when you wake up and the news is bloody and all you have left inside of you is an endless ream of worry.

But there’s nothing like the relief of life giving way to itself, of a sound on the roof and the access door opening and apologies already spilling.

That devil with his self deprecating smile, saying _I’m sorry, I’m sorry– The blood, it’s not mine._

And it’s not. Which is nice, for once.

(You did warn him about the photos after all. There might not be many, but there will be _some_ , damn it, and he better look like the polished jerk you fell in love with.)

“I just,” he’ll say, taking your hand and leaning in for a kiss - that you’ll grant him _this_  time even though you did put your foot down about kissing him in that stupid, horn-adorned suit. “Wanted to make sure there was nothing left here to worry about on the honeymoon.”

And you’ll forgive him, over and over again, because love is like that.

And love is like this. Your smile against his as you breathe in the fact that everything, everything is working out. “That’s good,” you’ll say. “But if we’re late, my mother will kill you and I’m not going to save you. Go change.”

He’ll smile as he leaves, to shower, to shave, to put on that suit you picked out.

And you hope, hope, that the next time you wake and world is bloody, that it still won’t be his.

But you’re no fool.

You’re taking his name, because someday, that’ll be all you have left of him.


End file.
